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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904216">no one alive can always be an angel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothicalcreatures/pseuds/mothicalcreatures'>mothicalcreatures</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>don't you know i'm human [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Background Relationships, Food Related Trauma, Jopzier, M/M, Permanent Injury, Reconciliation, Recovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:01:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothicalcreatures/pseuds/mothicalcreatures</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard to believe he'd made it home to England, that he had lived to sleep in a real bed once more and be fussed over by his family. It was harder still to feel that things might return to some semblance of normal. What could normal be after the horrors they’d seen? That out of 129 men, only three had returned, Fred, Crozier and, by some miracle, Thomas Jopson as well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Frederick Des Voeux &amp; Thomas Jopson, Charles Frederick Des Voeux/Leopold McClintock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>don't you know i'm human [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Terror Bingo (2020)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>no one alive can always be an angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomdxys/gifts">frederickdesvoeux (doomdxys)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Terror Bingo prompt "Call in the Night."</p>
<p>The title is from "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" by The Animals, one of five songs on my Freddy Des Voeux playlist. (If you have song recs for the boy, feel free to drop them in the comments). </p>
<p>As last time, Freddy is a mix of show, book and the irl boy, and the canon divergences are him not killing Tom Hartnell and Silna letting him tail after her.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Home. It was hard to believe he'd made it home to England, that he had lived to sleep in a real bed once more and be fussed over by his family. It was harder still to feel that things might return to some semblance of normal. What could normal be after the horrors they’d seen? That out of 129 men, only three had returned, Fred, Crozier and, by some miracle, Thomas Jopson as well, though Crozier and Jopson’s survival had been near things.</p>
<p class="p1">Crozier had apparently been ignoring a rather significant injury that only came to light when they realized he was shaking far too severely to cleanly do the amputation of Fred’s fingers. Lady Silence—Silna, they’d learned eventually—had done it instead, and then left Fred to bandage his own hands while she saw to what turned out to be a serious gouge across Crozier’s upper chest and shoulder.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred had felt the hope of making it home that he’d felt before slip away as Crozier became feverish and ill. He’d decided then he would try to make for the main camp the following day. Crozier had told them to continue south, and Fred had hoped, if they were very lucky, that Lt. Little might not have ordered them to leave just yet.</p>
<p class="p1">They hadn’t been, of course. He’d arrived at the camp—following his best attempt at explaining to Lady Silence what he intended to do, and she must have understood something because she gave him a small satchel of seal meat—to find it empty save for those too ill to walk. Jopson he’d found barely dressed and sprawled out on the shale, desperately trying to claw his way forward.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred had wrestled Jopson back into his tent—he’d fought him with surprising strength for one so ill—and gotten him wrapped up on his cot again. He’d tried to get him to eat something too, but Jopson had refused, despite Fred’s reassurances about what it was. It hadn’t been until Fred mentioned that Crozier was alive and with Lady Silence that Jopson had become at all cooperative.</p>
<p class="p1">“I thought he’d left,” Jopson had croaked as Fred had helped him into his greatcoat and slops.</p>
<p class="p1">That had given Fred a moment’s pause; it meant that the sick hadn’t been told about Crozier, and likely not the plan to leave them either. It had struck him as terribly cruel, though he’d realized that, had he been here instead of with Hickey, he might not have considered doing so either.</p>
<p class="p1">“I can’t carry you,” Fred had told Jopson, though he had offered to be as much of a crutch as possible.</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson had looked at him like he’d rather not have anything to do with Fred, but he’d relented, because he couldn’t so much as stand up on his own. Fred had the feeling that if it weren’t for Jopson’s loyalty and determination to get back to Crozier, he never would have relented to Fred’s help at all.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Fred rolled over in his bed, and then, after another moment, sat up. He was currently staying in the London home of Leo McClintock, having had to come back down to the city for the laughable formality of a court martial for the lost ships. He’d nearly wept in relief when Crozier told him that there would be no court martial for him as a mutineer.</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s just the three of us now,” he’d said. “I’ll not decrease that number for a mistake you already know you made.”</p>
<p class="p1">This had been after Crozier’s recovery but before Jopson’s. Crozier’s injury, new and quickly seen to, had healed well under Silna’s care, Jopson’s, an old leg wound reopened from scurvy, had festered. Eventually, Crozier had made the decision that if Jopson were to live, the leg below his knee would have to go. It had been a worse sight than Fred’s fingers, but they’d done it and Jopson had lived. He’d been insensate for sometime after, however, and they’d had to haul him on Silna’s small sledge for a while.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred had a feel that Crozier would have been willing to haul Jopson all the way to safety, but eventually Jopson had insisted on trying to hobble along himself, and as they made their way down King William Land there was no shortage of scrap wood to be found from the deserted camps to make into a crutch.</p>
<p class="p1">They’d still been wrecks by the time they reached a camp of Silna’s people, but there they’d found welcome and rest, and Fred had realized just how incorrect his perception of the native people here had been. He should have listened to Crozier, who’d <em>been</em> here before.</p>
<p class="p1">They’d spent a little over a year living with the Inuit, learning the language, the skills, the culture in order to survive. It had started as staying through the winter, but then spring had come and Crozier had asked Fred if he felt ready to move on, and the thought of returning to England had felt so nauseating he hadn’t known what to do. So they’d stayed, they’d stayed until Sir James Clark Ross had come looking for them.</p>
<p class="p1">That had been how Fred had met Leo. He’d been Captain Ross’s second lieutenant and had accompanied him on his walk to find they few survivors. Fred had found Leo very easy to talk to, and Leo had listened to Fred’s whole miserable story without passing judgement—of course they hadn’t had that conversation until were safe aboard the <em>Enterprize </em>and sharing Leo’s small cabin. Fred imagined if he’d opened with that, they might not have ended up getting on so well.</p>
<p class="p1">It had been in that small cabin that Leo had kissed him for the first time as well. It had been a small thing, on Fred’s knuckles as Leo had been massaging some salve into Fred’s fingers, which had ached abominably then, and still bothered him frequently. It had been such a tender thing it had brought Fred to tears, so long it had been since anyone had touched him so gently and reverently.</p>
<p class="p1">When they’d finally disembarked in England they still hadn’t put a name to what had developed between them aboard the <em>Enterprize</em>, but they both had agreed they didn’t want to lose it. Fred had been whisked off by his family to recover at home, but he promised Leo he would write and Leo had written him.</p>
<p class="p1">Their correspondence had, of course, ended here; with Fred joining Leo at his home in London. Fred had his own room, though Leo has been quick to offer Fred a place in his own. Most nights Fred did prefer to sleep with Leo, it was a comfort and reminiscent of the nights shoved up together in Leo’s bunk on the <em>Enterprize, </em>but on days he found himself in a particularly dark mood he preferred to sleep alone, knowing from experience that sleep would come uneasily, if it came at all. Tonight was one such night.</p>
<p class="p1">Every time Fred shut his eyes to sleep, he was haunted by visions of the Arctic: the ice, the creature, the mutiny, the dead. The guilt ate at him, what he’d done… what he’d <em>eaten</em>. The others had fallen to that too, he knew, he’d seen the pots, the bones, but that had been desperation… Hickey had made that choice for them before they’d even run out of tins and they’d all gone along with it, and maybe it had been Fred’s saving grace, getting fresh meat earlier than the others—the seal meat Silna had given them had brought Jopson from death’s door shockingly fast—but it was a horrible thing to think back on, and it made him quite ill when presented with most meats now.</p>
<p class="p1">The first time he’d sat down for dinner with his family Fred had nearly gagged at the smell of cooked pork, and found himself wishing for the seal meat and fish they’d eaten with the Inuit. He hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction, and he’d tried to force himself to eat, but the moment the meat had touched his tongue, memories swarmed his head and guilt rolled his stomach, and he’d spat it out before it made him vomit. He felt queasy just thinking about it now.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Fred shook his head to try and clear his thoughts and fumbled on his nightstand to retrieve his glasses before climbing out of bed. He needed something to do, something to occupy his mind or body, maybe both. Glancing at the clock, he let out a sigh. It was pushing midnight, Leo would be asleep and Fred did not want to wake him.</p>
<p class="p1">He’d go for a walk, he decided. The sights and sounds of London would ground him, he hoped. It had worked in the past, but it didn’t <em>always</em> work, sometimes the walking alone made it worse, even though the cobbled streets of London were nothing like the slippery shale of King William Land.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred dressed quickly and quietly. He’d gotten quite good at dressing himself with his missing fingers for the most part, though cravats gave him trouble, so he generally went for stock collars now.</p>
<p class="p1">Before leaving the house, he scratched out a quick note for Leo, on the off chance he woke up and checked in on him. Fred didn’t expect to be gone until morning, but if he was, Leo would certainly worry.</p>
<p class="p1">There was a chill in the air so Fred threw on an overcoat before going out. Better to be over warm, he thought, locking the door behind him as he left. He had no path charted and no particular end destination in mind, save for that he would eventual wander home.</p>
<p class="p1">The ability to wander at will and still be able to find his way back to Leo’s house was part of why he liked these walks so much. London was familiar and known; there was no need for maps and charts to find out where he ought to go next and no need to force himself to walk one step further than he wanted to, because if it came to that he could simply hail a cab to bring him home. For now though, Fred was content to let his feet take him wherever.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">When Fred’s feet and legs finally began to ache from the exertion of walking, he stopped to take stock of himself and his surroundings and was rather shocked to find himself in a neighborhood he recognized. If he wasn’t mistaken it was where Captain Crozier had taken up residence with Jopson. Out of impulse, he continued down the street toward where his memory told him Crozier’s house was.</p>
<p class="p1">He was correct in his assumption, but as he stood in front of the darkened house, Fred didn’t know what to do with himself. By rights, he ought to turn around and go look for a hansom cab to take him back to Leo, but he also found him self wanting dearly to commiserate with someone who knew what he’d been through from more than simple recounting, and the only two such men left were in that house—and probably asleep. Fred’s watch indicated that it was now just past three in the morning, which seemed baffling as it certainly didn’t feel like he’d been walking for so long.</p>
<p class="p1">Then, a light flickered on in one of the rooms downstairs and Fred found his feet moving toward the front door. He knocked, quietly, in the hopes of only alerting whoever was awake.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred didn’t knock again, even after a few minutes had passed. If no one came to the door, he would leave, but then the door cracked open revealing Jopson.</p>
<p class="p1">“Mr. Des Voeux.” Jopson’s voice was tight and the furthest thing from welcoming, and Fred had the very real urge to apologize and slink away. “Is there something you need at this hour?”</p>
<p class="p1">Fred shook his head. “I’d just been out, saw the light in the window… I couldn’t sleep.”</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson’s posture eased somewhat. “We have that in common then. Why don’t you come in? I just made tea.”</p>
<p class="p1">Fred hadn’t expected such an open invitation, since Jopson, he knew, did not much like him. In truth, Fred had been under the impression that he only tolerated him for Crozier’s sake, but he followed Jopson inside regardless, noting as he did so that Jopson had finally swapped out his crutch for a cane and a rather fashionable looking wooden leg.</p>
<p class="p1">They didn’t speak as they made their way into the sitting room and Fred helped himself to the spare cup on the tea tray.</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson dropped heavily onto the sofa and began unbuckling his false leg, groaning in relief as he pulled it off and set it to the side.</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s new,” he said by way of an explanation when he noticed Fred watching. “Still not sure how I feel about it.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You’ll get used to it, I imagine,” Fred said, shedding his overcoat and sitting down with his tea in an armchair across from Jopson.</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson nodded slowly. “How are your hands?”</p>
<p class="p1">“They still ache, but I’m getting the hang of writing again.” He flexed the fingers on his free hand. “Which is something.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Do you think you’ll return to the Navy?” There was something bitter in Jopson’s voice and he wondered if it had something to do with his field promotion.</p>
<p class="p1">“I don’t know. I <em>ought </em>to.” Fred worried his lip. “I think my family expects it, though they haven’t said anything. My father’s been happy enough seeing me safe and home. Will you?”</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson sighed. “Not unless Francis-“ he cut himself off sharply before continuing. “Not unless the captain sails again. We’ve been through too much, I couldn’t imagine serving anyone else.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Even as a lieutenant?” Fred asked.</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson had been raising his cup of tea to his mouth, and stopped midway and set the cup down again. “The Admiralty haven’t upheld my promotion, which was to be expected, so no. Captain Crozier is still trying to get them to give me a lieutenants pay for the time I did serve. I keep telling him there are more important things he could put his efforts behind, but he’s stubborn.”</p>
<p class="p1">Fred nodded. He’d seen in the papers the struggles families had been having getting their loved ones’ pay, among other things; he donated himself whenever he saw such a family asking for aid. Still… “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve that pay,” he said. “You served as lieutenant, even if it was only for a short while.”</p>
<p class="p1">Fred hadn’t served, so he didn’t get the pay, despite being made lieutenant all the way back in ’46, but he didn’t say any of that as was trying to extend an olive branch.</p>
<p class="p1">“I had no say in the promotion, I hope you know,” Jopson said slowly. “It was just as much of a surprise to me as it was to everyone else.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I know,” Fred replied. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be bitter it wasn’t me though.” He sighed. “That was what did it, you know, the last straw that lead me to Hickey. It wouldn’t have bothered me if it had been another one of the mates, but…”</p>
<p class="p1">“But I wasn’t even a sailor,” Jopson said, picking up his cup of tea again. “I was a steward, and the captain’s steward at that. Anyone who distrusted the captain would have no reason to think they could trust me as an officer. You didn’t.” </p>
<p class="p1">It should have felt like an accusation, but somehow it didn’t. “I should have,” Fred admitted, then he shook his head. “Christ, you should have seen Hickey at the end of it. He was hardly a sane man.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Francis has told me some of it,” Jopson said quietly. “I’m always torn with wishing I could have been there to help him and glad I wasn’t.”</p>
<p class="p1">He didn’t correct himself on calling Crozier “Francis” this time, Fred noted, and part of him wondered just how close captain and steward had become. Once there might have been vitriol to the thought, but now it was more akin to wondering if they shared something like what he shared with Leo.</p>
<p class="p1">“Be glad you weren’t,” Fred told him. “I don’t think there was anything you would have been able to do. I… I don’t say that to be cruel, but it would have taken more than one man to…” he trailed off for a sigh.</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson drained his tea leaned forward to pour himself another cup. When he sat back, he let out a long breath, sinking into the cushions and cradling the cup of warm tea in his hands. “Is it odd that I find it comforting to hear you say that?” </p>
<p class="p1">Fred snorted. “I think if anyone’s allowed to find comfort in strange things, it’s us.”</p>
<p class="p1">“True,” Jopson replied, his mouth twitching up in a small smile.</p>
<p class="p1">Conversation came easily after that, some of the tension that had been between them since Fred had first found Thomas on the shale having begun to bleed away. It wasn’t until the rising sun began to light up the room that Fred even realized how long they’d been talking.</p>
<p class="p1">“I should get home, I think,” Fred said, rising to his feet. “I left a note for Leo, but I truly didn’t mean to be out until morning.”</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson gave Fred a curious look, before relaxing and nodding. “Well, your company has been surprisingly welcome for a restless night,” he said, reaching for his leg. “I’m glad you came by. Give me a moment and I’ll see you to the door.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t have to,” Fred began, but Jopson waved him off.</p>
<p class="p1">“I ought to get back upstairs anyway, Francis worries when I don’t sleep, though he’s one to talk, he has as many sleepless nights as I do.” He huffed as he cinched the straps of the leg tight around his thigh. “But I can’t manage the stairs well one-legged.” </p>
<p class="p1">“Fair enough.”</p>
<p class="p1">At the door Jopson saw him off with a much more gentle “Mr. Des Voeux” than he’d greeted him with.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred was about to bid Jopson goodbye, but what came out of his mouth instead was, “If we’re to be friends you ought to call me Freddy, particularly seeing as we’re of the same rank.”</p>
<p class="p1">Jopson was visibly taken aback by Fred’s words, but he collected himself quickly. “You might call me Thomas, then,” he replied.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred nodded his acknowledgement before tipping his hat to Jopson. “Give Captain Crozier my regards once he’s awake.”</p>
<p class="p1">“He’ll be sorry to have missed you,” Jopson said, a wry grin spreading on his face.</p>
<p class="p1">Fred chuckled. “I’ll try to call at a more reasonable hour next time.”</p>
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